


Searching For A Key

by TheEvilElfLord



Series: Further Prophecies [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen, Maybe canon divergence?, Mostly Fluff, Oneshot, Post season 3 Lucifer, Pre season 4 Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEvilElfLord/pseuds/TheEvilElfLord
Summary: While stopped in London during her vacation in Europe, Chloe drops by A.Z. Fell’s Antiquarian and Unusual Books looking for answers about Lucifer.Rating this as T because of occasional swearing.





	Searching For A Key

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time writing for either fandom (or posting for any...), so I apologize if the characters are a little out of character. I have no idea how confusing this might be if you haven’t both read Good Omens and watched Lucifer, so read at your own risk.

The Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, says:

"248. When Hell’s queen comes from the city of angels on a queſt, metaphors are truth, and the truth she ſeeks is wrapped in metaphor."

Of course, nobody knows about it since Anatham Device and Newton Pulsifer cheerfully burned the sole copy of the book twenty years ago.

***

Chloe Decker gripped her daughter’s hand as they walked through the bustling streets of Soho. She worried enough about accidentally losing her daughter in Los Angeles. She was NOT about to lose her in a foreign country. Trixie took in the sights of Soho whith the excitement of any child on vacation. Of course, she thought they were just sight-seeing. And Chloe didn’t want her to think otherwise. How could she tell Trixie, who loved Lucifer and Maze so, so much, that they were literally the devil and a demon. How could she tell her daughter when she couldn’t make heads or tails of it herself. He’d always told her the truth, even if she couldn’t possibly believe him.

Of course, it did explain how he managed to scare several suspects shitless and even land one in a psyche ward. But it didn’t explain why he was so nice to her. To everyone at the precinct. Sure he was self-centered, and a little bit of a douche at times (ok, maybe all the time). But... he protected her more times than she could count. So what did it mean?

"Mommy!" Trixie complained. “We’ve been walking all day. Can we stop? Please?”

Chloe stopped at the corner of the street. Trixie was right. They had been walking all day, and she was starting to get tired. She looked at the shops. Perhaps a restaurant or a bakery?

Across the street, there was a shop, _A. Z. Fell’s Antiquarian and Unusual Books_.

Perhaps it was a gut feeling, perhaps it was fate, or something else entirely. An incomprehensible force drew Chloe Decker to the shop, like iron to a magnet.

“Of course, Monkey,” Chloe said. “I just want to check out this book store. Then we can find bakery or a café, and I’ll buy you some cake. How about that?”

Trixie nodded.

Still holding her daughter’s hand, Chloe crossed the street to the ancient looking book store.

The sign said open, and the door was unlocked, but when Chloe and Trixie stepped into the shop, it appeared to be empty.

Immediately, her instincts kicked in, and she reached for her gun.

Except, of course, she didn’t have her gun. Because she was on vacation. In a foreign country, where handguns were banned.

Trixie, sensing her mother’s tension, stepped closer to her.

The sound of laughter came from the back room.

“Very well, you old serpent,” a male voice said. “Consider temptation accomplished.”

Chloe relaxed. At least she wasn’t likely to find a dead body. She turned, and started looking at the titles. Most of the books looked to be at least several hundred years old, although there were some newer ones. A collection of rather ancient looking bibles caught her attention, and she strolled over to look at them. “Hello?” she called.

“Looks like you got a customer, Angel,” another male voice said. “I’ll go scare them off.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, dear,” the first voice said.

Two men stepped out of the back room. One was about average in height, and slightly chubby with a round face. He had curly, pale blond hair and blue eyes, and wore a light tan suit and tartan bow tie that looked dated. Dated from around the Victorian era, as far as Chloe could guess. (And Lucifer criticized _her_ style!)

His companion was slightly taller, and lanky. His hair was the color of flame, and, along with the black pants, grey t-shirt, and black blazer, wore sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes.

"Ah. Hallo!” said the Victorian guy. Assuming that it was just the two of them there, he was the one called Angel. “Welcome to the shop. I’m Ezra Fell, this is my partner Antony Crowley.” Fell held out his hand.

“Chloe Decker.” She shook his hand.

“You’re American! It’s a pleasure meeting you. You’re with Tadfield Air Base, I presume?" Fell asked.

"What?" Chloe asked in bewilderment. "No. Why?"

"Ah, just curious." Fell said. "They keep showing up here ever since the incident.”

“Yeah, it’s bloody annoying,” Crowley said.

“I don’t know what they possibly think we’re doing. But enough about that. What can I do for you?” Fell asked

Chloe suspected she really didn’t want to know what the incident was, but the detective part of her sensed a mystery, and wanted to solve it. “The incident?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, that was about twenty years ago,” Mr. Fell said. “We were trying to stop Armageddon, but I guess they thought we were trying to start it. Now we get them down here every once in awhile checking in on us.” Fell said.

_Armageddon?_ Chloe thought. That was a little dramatic. Surely they didn’t literally mean the end of the world.

“They still think we’re in on something nefarious,” Crowley said.

"So, Miss Decker," Fell enquired, "if you don’t mind me asking, if you’re not with the air base, what are you doing this side of the pond?"

"Looking for answers," Chloe said.

“Of course. That would explain why you would come to a book shop.” Mr. Fell said. “Anything specific?”

“I don’t suppose you have a copy of _The Keys of Solomon_ or a satanic bible?” Chloe asked.

Crowley gave her an appalled look.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any satanic bibles, but you are looking at the collection of profane bibles.” Fell said.

“What, do they say that the devil is actually good?” Chloe asked.

“I’m afraid not.” Fell said.

“What would you want with those horrific books, anyway?” Crowley asked.

Chloe sighed. “It’s a long story,” she said.

“Oh dear,” Mr. Fell said sympathetically. “Why don’t you come to the back and tell us over some wine and cake?”

The paranoid part of Chloe’s brain told her that going to the back room with some strangers, who were offering her wine, no less, was generally a bad idea, but there was something about Fell that made her think that he meant her no harm. Besides, she’d been living with a certain knowledge for several weeks now, and it would be nice to tell someone. At best, they just assume she was speaking in metaphors, like she originally thought Lucifer was, and roll with it. At worst, they’d probably just shrug her off for some crazy American. Americans had a reputation for being uncultured and crazy, right? It couldn’t get that bad.

Fell led Chloe and Trixie into the private room that he and Crowly had originally been hiding in.

The back room looked quite cozy. Bookshelves filled with tomes as old as Fell’s outfit –or possibly older–lined the walls of the room. There were four oversized chairs surrounding a round table with two glasses of wine and a large chocolate cake.

“What’s the occasion?” Chloe asked.

Fell laughed. “None, really,” he said. “This demon—” he gestured to Crowley “—was trying to tempt me into doing a favor for him.” He said the word “demon” with an amused smile, as though it was a pet name, rather than calling Crowley a monster.

Crowley smiled, his cheeks flushed.

Chloe laughed. _Demon?_ Lucifer had a thing about granting people favors, but it had to be a coincidence. She hoped. She thought Lucifer was speaking in metaphors for a long time. She wondered if they were speaking in metaphors or not.

“Well, anyway, how about you tell us why you’re looking for some medieval grimoires?” Fell said.

“Well, you see, I work for the Los Angeles Police Department as a homicide detective,” Chloe began. “About three years ago, we got this case. There was this singer, Delilah. She was shot multiple times from someone passing in a car. There was one witness.”

Fell cut the cake, and served each of them.

“And, what, did they say that Delilah got up shortly after, and walk away?” Crowley reached for a clean glass and poured Chloe wine wine.

“What?” Chloe asked.

“Oh, well, demons can only possess the freshly departed bodies of the damned,” Crowley said. “Can I get your daughter something to drink? I believe I have a bottle of sparkling apple cider.”

Chloe wondered if Crowley was making up possession stuff and if not, how he knew. She was certain she didn’t want to know.

“What made you think she was damned? Chloe asked.

Crowley reached for another wine glass, and an unopened bottle of sparkling cider. 

Fell laughed. “Well, you did say she was a singer. Statistically, that is most likely where her soul went.”

Chloe frowned. What? “Well, for better or for worse, Delilah stayed dead,” she said. “But the witness, who was standing right next to her, he got away scratch free. He introduced himself to us as Lucifer Morningstar. I thought it was a stage name or something, but the database said that was his actual name. When I asked him how he survived, he just laughed and told me it was one of the perks of immortality.”

Fell and Crowley shared a look.

Chloe continued to talk. She told them about how they finally arrested Jimmy Barnes, how Lucifer spent five minutes with him, and landed him in a psych ward. She told them about all the other occurrences.

Crowley, sprawled in his chair, had forgotten his wine. Fell, who sat across from her, leaned across the table, listening intently to her story. Chloe couldn’t tell how much they believed her, but from how Crowley’s face had turned pale, she suspected they knew something.

She told them about Lieutenant Pierce, about Sinnerman, and how Lucifer insisted on investigating him. And then she got to the part about Charlotte Richard’s death, about how Dan found the case file, revealing that Pierce was Sinnerman, and about the trap she, Lucifer, Dan, and Ella created to catch his henchman.

“So Lucifer and I, we went to the address to retrieve his sister,” Chloe said. Her voice caught in her throat. She still had nightmares about that. “As soon as we entered the house, we were surrounded by men with machine guns. They started firing on us.”

Fell and Crowley stared at Chloe with horrid fascination as she wound up her tale.

“I don’t remember much after that,” Chloe admitted. “Just him screaming, and then suddenly ending up on a helicopter pad. That’s when Ella called, told us it was a trap. I ran back because Lucifer was still there. And then I got back, and well, all of the gunmen were unconscious.”

Crowley’s face turned was ashen, and he finished his wine, then poured himself another glass.

“There were white feathers covered in blood, everywhere.” Chloe said quietly. She didn’t know if she wanted Fell and Crowley to think she was crazy or not.

Fell stood up, and walked briskly toward a bookshelf across the room.

“And in the middle of it all, there he stood,” Chloe continued. ”Except his face… his face was red. Like it had been burnt. Flames were erupting from his head, and his eyes were _glowing_.”

As soon as Chloe said the word “glowing”, Fell tripped over a large, Middle Eastern style rug in a corner of the shop.

Fell belly-flopped onto the hard wood floor of his shop where the rug–now folded over on itself in the corner from where he had kicked it. In a brief moment, his expression flashed from pain, to confusion, followed by quickly embarrassment, and then, as he looked down at the strange white markings in an arc like pattern still half hidden by the rug, abject horror. His face turned ashen with recognition.

Crowley slammed his wine glass down on the table. Red wine sloshed from the glass onto the table. He accidentally knocked his glasses off his face as he threw himself out of his chair and rushed to Fell’s side.

“Angel?” he called. Crowley grimaced as he stepped on the white markings, and gently touched Fell’s shoulder to help him up.

“Stay here, Monkey,” Chloe said to her daughter, and joined Crowley where Fell had… well, where he had fallen.

“Hey, Angel, it’s ok. It’s not activated. You’re still here. Everything is ok.” Crowley said.

Chloe looked down at the strange symbols. She didn’t recognize them.

Slowly, Fell relaxed, and Crowley helped him to his feet.

“Oh dear, that was embarrassing,” he said. “Just… brought up memories, is all. I’m quite fine, really.”

“What is that?” Chloe gestured to the markings.

Fell looked at Crowley, as though trying to decide what to say.

Crowley shrugged.

“Wait, is that a summoning circle?” Chloe asked.

“Well, not in the sense that you probably think, but—”

“Are you a satanist?” Chloe asked, perhaps a little too excitedly.

Fell’s eyebrows widened. “Good heavens no!” he exclaimed.

At the same time, Crowley laughed and retorted: “Are you joking, he’d make a terrible Satanist. The only demon he’s ever summoned is me, and he can’t even do that properly.” He turned toward Chloe. His voice was high pitched with panic. “Besides, the Chattering order of Saint Beryl was abolished thirty years ago.”

And that was when Chloe noticed Crowley’s eyes for the first time. She gasped. It wasn’t that his eyes were unnaturally yellow that disturbed her. It was the fact that rather than being round, his pupils were vertically slit, like the eyes of a reptile.

The brief tense silence that in truth, lasted perhaps five seconds seemed tobe a whole lot longer.

“Crowley, dear, I believe you’re missing something,” Fell said quietly.

Crowley forcibly blinked. Then realization spread across his face. He screamed, “The Light!” He wailed.

From the sound of his voice, Chloe didn’t doubt that he was in pain,but she suspected that something else was causing it.

“It burns!” Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, then plastered his hands over his eyes, and ran back toward the table, and his chair, and scrabbled around the chair.

Chloe and Fell followed Crowley back to the table.

“I am truly sorry about this, my dear,” Fell said.

“My glasses!” Crowley hissed frantically, scrabbling blindly on the floor by the chair. “Angel, where are my glasses?”

“You’re a demon?” Chloe asked Crowley.

Fell frowned. “That should have worked. Why didn’t that work?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Angel, I need my glasses!” Crowley hissed.

“Right, of course,” Fell said, picking a pair of glasses off the table identical to the ones Crowley had been wearing, and that Chloe was most certain hadn't been there a second before.

Crowley sat up on the floor, and Fell gently placed the glasses on his face.

“Better, dear?” Fell asked.

Crowley let out a ragged breath, then nodded. He stood up, then promptly flopped down in his arm chair again. “Thanks, Angel,” he muttered.

“Wait,” Chloe said. “You… you _literally_ mean angel.” She said to Crowley. She turned to Fell. “You’re an actual angel. With wings and a halo. A messenger of god.”

“Actually, if you read the scripture, you’ll find that they never mention a halo,” Fell deflected. “It’s an optical illusion of the divine light. Artists just like to use it as a symbol of the divine.”

“But, you’re an angel,” Chloe said. “And a demon. Running a bookshop. Aren’t you supposed to be enemies?”

“I think, Miss Decker,” Fell said tiredly, “that you have been through a lot, and you should enjoy your visit to England, and use it to distance yourself from what happened.”

“But you can help me,” Chloe protested. “You might be the only one who can!”

“I think you should leave,” Fell said. He led her and Trixie back to the front of the shop.

“How does an angel and a demon—hereditary enemies—end up as partners?” She asked.

Fell picked a book off the shelf, and placed it in her hands.

“In my experience, I have found that an enemy of six thousand years makes one a sort of friend,” Fell opened the door. “Good day, Miss Decker.”

Chloe left the shop, and Fell closed the door behind her, changing the sign to read closed.

Chloe sighed. What the hell did that even mean?

“What is the book he gave you, Mommy?” Trixie asked.

Chloe looked down at it. It was an English translation of the book of Enoch.

It was starting to get late in the evening, but Chloe found that she could really use some comfort food after their encounter at the bookshop. “Come on, Monkey,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand again. “Let’s find some place to eat. I’ll let you have cake for dinner.”

They walked a few blocks to a nearby café. England, Chloe decided, had left her with more questions than answers. Perhaps she would find her answer in Rome.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so for anyone who’s curious, this here: ſ is called “long s.” You can read more about it here:
> 
> https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_s
> 
> I use it in the prophecy because Gaiman and Pratchett use it in the book for Agnes’s prophecies. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this silly little piece. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know in the comments below. 
> 
> I’m not very good at tagging, so if you have tips on how to tag things, I would love to hear them, too.
> 
> A warning about the series: I’m not sure if I will actually make this a series yet or not. I have a few (vague) ideas that would make this a loosely connected series, but I don’t know if I will have enough time to write more once the fall semester starts. I started a series for this jut in case. So, I guess if you want to read more, also let me know? And I would welcome more ideas for future works, too. If you leave a comment, I will probably reply.


End file.
